Wolf MPreg yep
by emrysmile
Summary: Holy cracktasticness Batman! Arthur and Merlin are... wolves? Yup! And with their pups it's happy families, more or less. 3 parts so far, not a story, just updated as inspiration hits.
1. Part the First

**MPreg Wolves? …Gosh I'm Sorry**

**Author:** Georgia (Merlin'sGeekyFan)  
**Synopsis:** AU/CRACKTASTIC WEIRDNESS! Inspired by a comment I saw. "The great-and-mighty-experienced-tough-fighting wolf had never been more terrified in his life."  
**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
**Warnings:** None but the weirdness, and maybe mpreg?  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:**I own a laptop which should be taken away from me for this atrocity… but please don't. ^^

* * *

Slowly treading his way towards the cave entrance Arthur sniffed hopefully, only to retreat, tale between his legs, as a menacing growl echoed out of the cavern. Whimpering – Arthur snarled, great and mighty wolves such as he did NOT whimper! – the oddly tawny coloured wolf resumed his post, seating himself a few feet away from the cave mouth, sharp dark eyes wary of any danger. His entire body spoke of tension, ready to pounce on any attacker and rip him apart with years of experience and tough fighting. No one would hurt his mate.

Loud howling echoed out of the cave but Arthur knew better than to go look. He simply waited, shimmering golden-brown fur becoming almost colourless under the late moonlight, and waited for it to end. The great-and-mighty-experienced-tough-fighting wolf had never been more terrified in his life.

Finally the unholy noises ended and against his better judgement Arthur poked his head into the cavern, sensitive nose snuffling, immediately detected the scent of blood but not death. Padding in closer he licked softly at the more common jet black fur of his mate, a tired Merlin grumbling low in his throat from contentment.

And there they were. Six tiny pups fumbling over each other, four of them with Merlin's coal coloured fur while the other two had – _been blessed with, _thought Arthur – rusty gold fur only slightly darker than the alpha-males.

Their old pack had shunned them, the old leader – Arthur's own father – nearly ripped him apart when Arthur had chosen Merlin as his mate. It didn't matter. This was his pack now, and he would protect them for as long as he could, and relish every minute of it. The exhausted wolf curled onto the floor, cradling the new pups between the warmth of his and Merlin's bodies, and nuzzled his mate gratefully as he drifted into sleep.


	2. Part the Second

Two weeks on from the all too terrifying experience of his pups' births, Arthur realised that the scary part had only just begun. Nature had dished out its most gruesomely terrifying ordeal. He was a father.

Now he was on the hunt for his littlest pup, one of the jet black pups which bore a striking resemblance to Merlin with his soft downy black fur, wide grey-blue eyes, and ever-wagging tail. It was no wonder said pup also caused the most trouble.

Arthur felt his tawny fur beginning to stand up on his back, he was riled up from the fear of losing his pup, and he wondered how he could possibly return without him. Just as the wolf was growing frantic, pounding quickly through the dense trees restlessly, he skidded to a messy halt sending mud splattering up onto his fur. A soft squeaky yipping was echoing through the trees to him, and Arthur's sensitive ears flicked towards the sound before he bounded off towards it.

Arthur had never felt such relief as he did in that moment. There was Bran, the tiny coal-coloured pup tumbling around happily in the grass. As Arthur approached in a hurry the little pup sneezed – an odd squeaky noise – and with a very familiar flash of golden eyes the river began to flow in the wrong direction.

Of course. They were Merlin's pups, how could they be anything other than mischievous magical nightmares?!

Quickly nuzzling into his Bran's face Arthur gently picked the tiny wolf up by the scruff of its neck, careful that his sharp teeth would not do any harm. On the long walk home Bran continued to sneeze and snuffle turning more than one tree purple and sending animals scampering for cover.

Arthur continued to trot onwards, wondering how his little pups 'mother' would punish him for frightening them so… …and wondering how he would cope with six little Merlin's.


	3. Part the Third

Arthur was right. Arthur was always right. He was an extra-ordinarily smart wolf of course.

His beloved pups had indeed received their 'mother's gifts' and now they were wreaking havoc that only the spawn of Merlin could manage. High-pitched growls made little pebbles rocket around the cave and wagging tails had more than once stirred up a small twister.

But even with the blessing of magic Arthur was taking no risk with his pups. Every day he trained them to run faster, strike harder, so they could defend themselves against any opponent. After hours of training Arthur would succumb to the nudging heads and playful nips, rolling joyfully in longer grasses with his energetic pups, pretending to pounce!

On just such a day Arthur was carefully watching his pups splash and gamble through a shallow river when horribly familiar barking and howling rang across to his sensitive ears. Heart thudding the wolf nudged his pups from the water impatiently, setting off as fast as he could without losing any of his children.

The sight that greeted him stilled his blood.

Backed up against the wall of the cave, close to the mouth but not close enough, Merlin growled low and loud, body taut and ready to strike! And there in front of him was a monster of a wolf, large and covered in gleaming silver fur, snapping and lunging teasingly at the black wolf. Uther.

Seeing red Arthur lunged! Teeth ripped at soft fur and thick flesh, powerful limbs pushing and claws tearing to create streams of red. When the mist descended from Arthur's eyes he saw the broken body of his father, whimpering his last breaths. Unable to watch he curled against himself, only taking comfort in the soft licks Merlin gave to his wounds, and the timid nuzzling of his pups.

* * *

Waking to the stench of stale blood and death was something Arthur would never want to relive, and quickly as possible he limped from the cave, settling on the soft grass to watch Merlin bounding happily with their pups, who were all too happy to take advantage of time with 'mother' and let their magic loose.

Arthur would never forget the hate burning in his father's eyes or the copper tang of his blood, but for them, for his family, he simply didn't care.


End file.
